


Who Waits For Love

by lmaohae



Category: SHINee, Super Junior
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 14:39:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmaohae/pseuds/lmaohae
Summary: Hyukjae finds himself struggling out of the clutches of his abusive partner, and even after Donghae is out of the picture, continues to live his life in complete disarray. The only person who remains by his side through this turmoil is his ex-roommate, Taemin, who stays for reasons only he knows. Both Hyukjae and Taemin reach a point in which they have to make a crucial decision; for Hyukjae, it's to decide between moving on in life, and returning to the source of his pain, time after time again whereas for Taemin, it's whether or not he should continue protecting the one person who needs him, but can't really see him for who he is. What do they choose?You were a damaged vesselAnd I, the sole passenger onboardCarried forward by the oceanAffection fading in discordNo one knows our destinationNo one cares to tell us no"Wait, my love," I say, "be patient""Stay with me," you beg, "don't go"





	Who Waits For Love

**Author's Note:**

> For Febra, and anyone else who's been looking for Euntaem/Eunhyuk-Taemin fics but hasn't found any.  
>  **TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE, COARSE LANGUAGE**  
>  Inspired by SHINee's "Who Waits For Love"  
> Enjoy. I hope this makes you cry.

**_Who_ **

     Hyukjae glared at his distorted reflection, trailing his eyes from the bottom of the broken mirror to where his bruised face; and the crack patterns marking where Donghae's fist had landed; was. He touched his face tenderly, ghosting his fingers over the purple welt that ran along the right side of his jaw, flinching. It hurt. Every fibre of his being hurt. Heck, every breath he took hurt, and reminded him of the painful fact that he was now alone. It was ironic, to say the very least, and he wasn't sure which felt worse, to be honest. Choosing between loneliness, and living with the ghost of someone who used to love him; someone who had morphed into a monster; was impossible, and as of that moment, redundant. Donghae couldn't touch him anymore. Hyukjae had been declared free from his wrath the moment the judge's gavel struck.

     And yet somehow, it still hurt.

     The sun began to set, dyeing the sky in hues of orange and pink. Within a matter of minutes the colours of the sky intensified, and soon, the biggest star had set, giving way to a thousand others. The end of the day signified only the beginning of Hyukjae's, and like every other night since the judge's order befell him, he desired to spend his time dancing in the colours of night life in drunken stupor. Intoxication was the only way out of the deadly concoction of physical and emotional trauma he so unfortunately experienced, or rather, it was the only way he knew how to deal with the affliction. He limped towards the shower, running himself a bath. The water that lapped at his skin was the only warmth he'd felt in a while.

     Drying himself off with a towel, he opened his wardrobe, picking out different items that he would later piece together as his visual ensemble for the night. He laid the items on his bed and sat next to them, ruffling his hair before letting out a heavy sigh. He had mixed feelings about the way he'd been living his life lately. He was well aware that the version of him now, the Hyukjae that slept all day in a weak attempt to nurse his seemingly neverending hangovers and danced all night basked in the neon strobe lights of different clubs with alcohol running through his veins, was a far cry from who he used to be, pre-Donghae. Somewhere deep down, he even admitted to himself that each time he brought a stranger home with him was a dire attempt at temporarily curing the loneliness that dominated his insides. He had become a ghost of his past self by now, and although Donghae would never be able to lay a finger on him ever again, he wasn't even sure who he was anymore. He had gone too far down the rabbit hole to simply return to being who he was before Donghae.

     Things weren't always so bad. As Hyukjae dressed himself, he reminisced. Everything remained vivid in his mind. He was a college freshman at the time; a scrawny, pale college freshman who wanted to major in art, and Donghae, just another senior who lived a few rooms down the hallway of the dormitory. Not once had either of them been under the other's radar, until one day, when Hyukjae was running late for class. He remembered himself running down the empty hallway, arms wrapped around a pile of textbooks, when one of the doors swung open and— _"What the hell!" "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—"_  only then did they both get a proper look at each other, books strewn everywhere. Donghae, in a black sweater and blue jeans that accentuated the curves of his toned legs, halted in his tracks, reaching his hand out so that the younger man could grab it. He pulled Hyukjae up, barely hiding his doe-eyed look of bewilderment.  _"What's your name?"_  he'd asked, his hand still wrapped tightly around Hyukjae's. Little did either of them know that that question would mark the blossoming of a beautiful friendship, relationship, and lastly, tragedy.

     The pair grew close in the months that followed, and eventually, it was Donghae who had decided that friendship wasn't enough. In the privacy of a hotel room on one of their holiday trips to Europe, he had planned a candlelit dinner by the sea where he, armed with a bouquet of baby's breath, had asked if Hyukjae would like to be his partner, possibly for life.  _"Yes,"_ Hyukjae had answered immediately.  _"Yes, yes, yes!"_ If one was to account for the memories they'd made right up until this point, you would've believed that their relationship had been nothing but sweet. And it was, at least for the next three or so years.

     Donghae and Hyukjae were inseparable, and very much in love, or at least that was how Hyukjae wanted to remember it. After Donghae had graduated from college, he started interning at a law firm where he eventually worked at, saving up for a house he got them; a humble standalone house by the East Sea. Hyukjae followed suit in the years that followed, graduating and then working as an art therapist. He didn't earn much, but it was enough to live comfortably with the love of his life at the time, at least. Unfortunately, their state of blissfullness was cut short when Donghae got retrenched from his company following a decline in the economy that affected his firm. Unable to find a job in the law industry and yet remaining hellbent on not wanting to work anywhere else, Donghae spiraled into a state of depression. He drank all day to numb how worthless he had felt, and slowly became nothing short of a bum. Hyukjae couldn't remember when the last time he'd seen the love of his life sober had been. He worked hard, and even though he only earned a fraction of what Donghae had earned at the firm, he tried his best to make things work. It didn't last long, however. Paying for groceries, the bills and even supporting Donghae's toxic habit took its toll on the pair. Their relationship was strained, and it wasn't long before they had their first big argument.  _"Fuck you!" "No, fuck YOU. We wouldn't be in this mess if I'd fallen in love with someone better. Someone within my damn league. Instead, I'm stuck with YOU. I should've married someone else." "YOU FUCKING SON OF A BI—"_

     That was the first time Hyukjae had been slapped. Every argument since then would begin in frustration, and end in blood, and each argument got progressively more violent than the last. Things were hurled against the wall, punches were thrown; the likes of it. Hyukjae was often at the receiving end of the violence, mostly because Donghae was much, much stronger than he was, and he rarely tried to fight back. The violence wore them down. They lasted five long years despite the love ceasing to exist long before. The once scrawny and pale college freshman, now resembled a bruised and battered ragdoll. He couldn't remember how many times his jaw and nose had been broken, or how each welt had appeared on different parts of his body. He couldn't even explain why he now walked with a limp.

     Everything finally came to an end one cold Friday night. Donghae had, like he always did, come home nearly one in the morning, drunk and unreasonably angry. He fumbled with the door, and when he finally managed his way into the house, he lurched into the bedroom, slurring cusses. Hyukjae, who had been asleep at the time, was woken up with a hard kick to his chest. His breathing hitched, and as soon as he shot his eyes open, Donghae wrapped his hands around his neck, choking him, livid.  _"Don't you fucking know how to get up and open the door for your husband, you useless son of a bitch?!"_ He'd yelled, before grabbing Hyukjae by his hair. Hyukjae flailed his arms frantically, trying to reach for something, _anything,_ to grab onto. Donghae dragged him off the bed and onto the floor and began kicking him in the ribs, sending shockwaves of excruciating pain throughout Hyukjae's body.  _"GET THE FUCK UP!"_ He'd yelled once more. At the time, Hyukjae was sure he was about to pass out. He was curled into a fetal position, coughing blood. Donghae crouched down next to his body, grabbing him by the jaw.

     Hyukjae struggled to keep his swollen eyes open, but through the cracks of them, he saw Donghae smiling.  _"Remember this, Lee Hyukjae,"_ he'd slurred, turning Hyukjae's head to face him.  _"I never loved you. I only use you because you were so easy to manipulate. Daring of you to think anyone would love you. And if you..."_ Hyukjae remembered using all his might to reach for something beneath the bed.  _Call the police. Do something. Anything. You're going to die._ As Donghae's words droned on, he felt around in search of something and—

          "I don't want to remember.  I don't want to remember. I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER."

     Fully dressed, Hyukjae fumbled around for his wallet and keys, bursting out the door. He hurried down the staircase, almost running, and walked down the pavement towards the local pub. Donghae's last words to him kept ringing in his head despite his efforts to think of something else. His head throbbed, and his chest ached. He quickened his already fast pace, turning a corner and when he finally reached the local pub, he ran right in.

 

* * *

**_Waits_ **

     Leaning over the bar, Taemin gestured at the bartender, signaling for another pint of beer. He had downed two by then, but he knew it would be a long night and drinking eased the tension in his veins a little, so another pint wouldn't hurt. The pub was a mix of loud, indecipherable conversations and music. The walls were lined with standing drinkers, and booths were filled with both the sober and the drunk; the young and the old. Taemin raised his third pint to his lips as soon as the bartender had set it down on the coaster in front of him. He was about to take a sip when he felt a tug on his arm. He turned.

          "Taemin." Hyukjae's voice cracked.

     Returning his glass to the coaster, Taemin got off the bar stool and pulled the man into a tight embrace, his heart sinking at the sight of him. Hyukjae's eyes were welled with tears, and upon having his friend's arms wrapped around him, the tears spilled over. He sobbed into Taemin's shoulder, shaking. Taemin pulled him closer and tighter, gently stroking his hair. They remained in this position for a while, swaying side to side a little, until Hyukjae's cries softened and eventually came to a halt. Hyukjae looked up at Taemin with an expression filled with anguish. He mouthed a "sorry", his voice barely audible, to which Taemin shook his head. Hyukjae didn't have to apologise for anything.

     Taemin pulled out a bar stool, prompting Hyukjae to sit down before he returned to his seat. The two sat in silence for a while, with Taemin taking small sips from his glass. He knew by now that forcing a conversation would be a terrible mistake, so he waited patiently for Hyukjae to speak instead. He watched as Hyukjae waved at the bartender, ordering a drink. Hyukjae looked at him.

          "I can't stop thinking about it." Hyukjae's voice was small and filled with despair.

     Pretending he didn't know what Hyukjae was talking about, Taemin reached for Hyukjae's hand with his, pursing his lips.

          "What is it that you can't stop thinking about, Hyuk?"

     Hyukjae's eyes widened, glistening in the light.

          "Donghae."

     A shot of anger fired through Taemin's body at the mention of that name. It angered him. It angered him so badly that Hyukjae had been subjected to that beast's torture for years without him knowing, and by now, it was too late to do anything about it. It angered him even more that Hyukjae would even mention the beast, but Taemin had gotten used to this routine. He knew it was a part of Hyukjae's healing; to mention the beast as many times as he could to get rid of the pain, so much so that hopefully, the day would come when not even the sight of that beast could hurt him. Taemin suppressed his anger, maintaining composure and forcing a gentle smile onto his face, as if unbothered.

          "Donghae? What about him?" Taemin asked, taking a sip from his glass.

          "I keep hearing his voice in my head. It won't leave me alone. I can't even  _sleep_  without hearing him."

     The bartender placed a shot glass in front of Hyukjae. He downed it. Then he asked for another.

          "I feel horrible, Taemin. I don't know what to do, or how to move on."

     Taemin drank the last of his third pint, setting the empty glass back down on its coaster as gently as possible. He, too, signaled to the bartender to serve him another.

          "Be gentle with yourself, Hyukjae." He said simply, his voice calm. "You can't expect yourself to move on quickly. You suffered for years."

     Upon hearing that, Hyukjae grabbed Taemin by the arm, an expression of desperation painted across his bruised face.

          "I'd rather be dead, Taemin."

     The bartender placed a second shot glass in front of Hyukjae, which he downed even quicker than the first. Pain pooled in Taemin's chest as he glossed his eyes over Hyukjae. It really pained him seeing the man like this, and what was worse was that it wasn't the first time seeing him like this. In fact, it might have been the hundredth, two hundredth, maybe even thousandth time Hyukjae had come running to him at his lowest. Not that he minded, of course. He was more than happy Hyukjae trusted him like that, and knowing what Hyukjae had gone through, he wanted nothing more than for him to recover from the trauma. He wanted nothing more than for Hyukjae to return to the once cheerful, lovable self he'd once been. Taemin was the only person, apart from that _beast_ , that Hyukjae had trusted since college days. Afterall, he was the first person Hyukjae had been introduced to then, since the two had been assigned as each other's roommates. He had seen Hyukjae change, from the young, naive college freshman who struggled to make friends, to being hopelessly devoted to Donghae and in love, to.....this. He felt helpless. He had once promised himself that he would wait; he would wait for Donghae to be erased from the picture. He would wait for Hyukjae to realise that it was him; it had only been him all along; that cared about him, and really loved him. Deep down, he wished he had he power to turn back time, and to save Hyukjae from all the pain he'd experienced being Donghae's captive. Deep, deep down, he wished it was him, whom Hyukjae had fallen in love with instead.

     Hyukjae ordered five more shots. He was determined to drown out Donghae's voice with more Vodka than he could handle. He wasn't a very good drinker, but he wasn't too bad either, so he figured about three to five more glasses would do the trick. Taemin, on the other hand, could tolerate alcohol pretty well, but on top of that, he had to make sure not to go over his limit if he wanted to be able to take Hyukjae home after the man had blacked himself out. Hyukjae unsteadily raised a shot glass in the air, waiting for Taemin to raise one too. Taemin shook his head.

          "Oh, c'mon, T-taemin," Hyukjae hiccuped. "One shot won't kill you."

     Taemin smiled, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

          "I know it won't. Not sure I could say the same for you, though."

     Hearing this, Hyukjae laughed before downing his third shot, throwing his head back. He slammed the empty shot glass down before grabbing onto Taemin for leverage. Even in his drunken stupor, he managed a smirk.

          "C'mon, Taemin," he taunted. "Be a  _friend,_ won't you? Stop being such a Debbie Downer."

     Taemin sniggered.  _Are you kidding me?_ He thought to himself.  _I've always been a friend. That's the problem._  He watched Hyukjae scramble for another shot, accidentally knocking one over as he picked up a glass. Touching his lips with the rim of the shot glass, Hyukjae froze suddenly like a deer in headlights.

          "Oh, right. I forgot. I'm the only one between us who has absolutely  _nothing_ to lose."

     Hyukjae swallowed the remaining drinks back to back, slumping in his chair. His breathing got heavier, and in a matter of seconds, he began to whimper. Taemin moved his stool closer to Hyukjae's and carefully pulled his head onto his shoulder. The man's whimpers grew louder and louder, eventually giving way to full-blown crying. Nobody but Taemin noticed, though; the jangle of voices from those that surrounded them drowned the cries out. Taemin could feel the fabric covering his left shoulder getting damp.

          "I have nothing, Taemin." Hyukjae finally said after crying for almost ten minutes straight, his voice a careless whisper. "I had everything, but I didn't know how to handle anything, so I lost  _everything._ I'm the cause of everything bad that has happened."

          "No, sweetheart," Taemin countered, trying as best as he could to sound calm. "You were trying to protect yourself."

     Taemin stroked the man's face, biting his own lip. With each day that passed, it got harder and harder forcing himself not to react whenever Hyukjae reproached. However he knew that it was important for Hyukjae to grieve, fully, and he wasn't about to let his own feelings for the man get in the way of that. He was sure keeping his feelings a secret a little while longer wouldn't make a difference, anyway, He didn't want to be the person who took advantage of a man in his most vulnerable form, and he figured that if he could refrain from letting his feelings show all those years, then he could refrain a bit longer. Clueless Hyukjae shifted his head on Taemin's shoulder, his body convulsing in sync with the ghosts of his sobs.

          "I shouldn't have called the police on him. I should've just held on a bit more. I should've...just..."

     Hyukjae gagged, covering his mouth. His body tensed up for a few seconds, before going limp again. Taemin slid his arm underneath Hyukjae's armpit and around his small frame, propping him up into a standing position. He reached for some bills in his pocket with his free hand, tossing them onto the bar top to pay for their drinks. The bartender nodded in acknowledgment.

          "That's it, Hyukjae. You've had enough," Taemin declared, as he began staggering towards the exit with Hyukjae in tow. "Time to go home."

     The journey home on foot was a challenging one. Every five to ten steps forward, either one of them would careen towards one side and fall over. Taemin wasn't even half as drunk as Hyukjae had been, but for some reason he couldn't stay focused.  _Should've drank less, you fucktard,_ he cussed himself mentally. Just then, Hyukjae fell over onto a grass patch next to the pavement and vomited. Taemin, who had also fallen over, clambered over to Hyukjae.

          "I'm going mad," Hyukjae groaned before vomiting some more.

     Getting back onto his feet precariously, Taemin hooked his arms under Hyukjae's armpits, lifting him upwards. They continued the wobbly journey home.  _Nearly there._

 

* * *

**_For_ **

     Taemin knew the drill. He kicked the door open after unlocking it with his copy of Hyukjae's house keys, dragging Hyukjae onto the couch. He propped him into a sitting position. Then he slammed the front door shut before making his way into the bathroom. He pulled the curtains aside and bent over, running a bath. As the tub began to fill up with lukewarm water, he uncapped a bottle of shower foam and poured some of its solution into the tub. The water began to bubble, a fraction of it turning into foam. Leaving the tap to its task, Taemin quickly returned to the living room. He tapped Hyukjae on the shoulder lightly from behind to see if it beckoned a response.

          "Hyukjae." He tapped some more. "Hyukjae ah."

     Hyukjae remained still, springing Taemin into action. He walked over to the front of the couch and began to undress his long time friend, pulling his brown sweater over his head, before proceeding to unbutton the white dress shirt Hyukjae had worn underneath. Hyukjae, like always, didn't even put up a fight. He groaned as Taemin lifted his arms and helped him out of his clothes, and when he was left in nothing but his boxers, Taemin scooped him upwards, bridal carrying him into the bathroom. He gently laid him down in the tub, which by now was filled two-thirds of the way, before reaching for the loofah that hung on a hook on the wall above Hyukjae's head, dipping it into the tub's foamy water. Taemin began to scrub Hyukjae's bare skin tenderly, careful not to hurt the man. His fingers ghosted over the bruises and welts that peppered parts of his body; there were bruises everywhere, really. Taemin hovered over the man's body, scooping and pouring water over Hyukjae's head in a bid to lightly rinse his hair and help the man wash his face. He always made sure to be as gentle as possible with Hyukjae, since he didn't know whether the bruises all over his body still hurt.

          "Taemin ah," Hyukjae called out suddenly, his eyes shut.

     Taemin paused.

          "Th-thank you."

     Smiling, Taemin rubbed his thumb across the semi-conscious man's chin. That must have been the millionth time that month that Hyukjae was thanking him, although he didn't think there was anything to thank him for. He was just doing what he could for the man, for  _Hyukjae_ , as a friend, and as someone who earnestly wanted to help him out of the hellhole he was in.  _For you,_ Taemin thought,  _I'd do anything._

     When he finally felt that Hyukjae had been in the tub long enough, Taemin left the bathroom and searched the house for a clean towel to help the man dry off. He retrieved a towel from Hyukjae's bedroom, only to return to the sight of the slender man climbing out of the tub himself. Taemin handed Hyukjae the towel, which Hyukjae quickly wrapped around his waist, ruffling his wet hair. Taemin stood rooted, not saying a word.

          "W-what are you looking at?" Hyukjae stammered, his voice low and unsteady.

     Taemin blushed. _What am I not looking at?_ He watched as Hyukjae limped towards the bathroom door, halting in his tracks at the door frame. He turned to face Taemin.

          "Stay." Hyukjae said simply, disappearing into his dark bedroom.

      _That's a first._

 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

 

     Following a quick shower, Taemin quickly put on the outfit he'd found folded in one of Hyukjae's drawers; a loose t-shirt and sweatpants; before joining Hyukjae in the bedroom. The buzz alcohol had given him from earlier that night had mostly worn off by now, good riddance. Taemin turned off the bathroom light and tottered towards the bed clumsily, the light from the window being his only guide. He could vaguely make out Hyukjae's thin silhouette lying on one half of the bed, back towards him. Despite having been his friend for nearly a decade, Taemin still made it a point not to assume that the man would be comfortable with him literally getting into bed with him, so he decided for himself that he would get some pillows and a blanket and sleep on the couch outside. Taemin reached the end of the bed, picking up a pillow.

          "Goodnight," he whispered into the air, not expecting a reply.

     He turned around and took two steps forward, before Hyukjae's gentle voice stopped him.

          "Please don't go."

     Taemin turned to look at the man, but all he saw was his back, and parts of his milky white skin highlighted by the moon's soft glow. He swallowed.

          "Don't leave me."

     Hyukjae shifted, pulling the duvet down, from his chin to his waist. He turned in his place, now facing Taemin, beckoning him to fill the empty space next to him. Taemin hesitated, staring at the void next to Hyukjae.

          "Stay the night." Hyukjae persuaded.

     A rope of rationality in Taemin's conscience snapped. He relented. He climbed into the bed next to Hyukjae, sitting upright against the bedpost. It wasn't awkward or anything, but Taemin didn't want to get  _too_ comfortable. He kept reminding himself that the man was damaged and possibly at his most vulnerable. He probably wasn't thinking straight either. He was lonely, and Taemin acknowledged that. He wasn't a monster. He wouldn't use that to his advantage. _I'm not Donghae._

          "How are you feeling?" Taemin asked innocently.

     Propping himself up with his elbow, Hyukjae frowned.

          "Like shit, honestly." He replied, his voice dispirited. 

     Taemin glanced at the man next to him, stifling a sigh. He reached for Hyukjae's hand, bringing it to his chest. His heart was palpilating like crazy.

          "Tell me what's wrong." Taemin coaxed. "C'mon. Tell me everything."

     Hyukjae moved closer.

          "Everything, Taemin. Everything's wrong." He shook his head, feeling sorry for himself. "Do you think I'm crazy, Taemin?"

     Taemin slid down the bedpost and laid on his side, his face now barely a ruler's width apart from Hyukjae's. He smiled thinly.

          "If anyone's crazy," he whispered, "it's me, for taking care of you time and time again after that fuckerdoes you dirty. For taking care of you still, even after that fucker is gone. So no; you're not crazy, Hyuk."

     There was a brief silence, and for nearly a minute, only the sounds of crickets chirping in the distance filled the still air that night. Hyukjae sighed.

          "Then you'll help me, won't you?"

     Taemin narrowed his brows.

          "Help you with what?" He asked, worried what the man might say next. He studied Hyukjae's face carefully. He looked reluctant to explain.

          "Visit Donghae."

     Those two words alone threw calm and composed Taemin into a frenzy of anger. He sat up, breathing heavily.

          "What? What the hell are you talking about? Are you out of your mind?!" He lashed out, unable to calm himself. "The man nearly  _killed_ you, Lee Hyukjae.  _He nearly killed you!"_

     Hyukjae gasped, shocked at Taemin's reaction.

          "I _love_ him," he said firmly, as if that was any consolation.

     Taemin clenched his fists and in a fit of rage, punched the space on the bed between them, screaming in anger.

     In an instant, Hyukjae moved away, trembling at the corner of the bed. He had drawn his knees to his chest and covered his ears, the same way he used to whenever Donghae used to come home drunk and pissed off. He began to whimper.

          "P-please d-don't hit me." He begged, the tremors in his voice distinct. "If you won't help me v-visit Donghae then it's okay. J-just,  _please, don't hit me_."

      _Fuck._ Taemin gritted his teeth, mentally cussing himself over and over for losing control over his emotions. His carelessness had caused the man to huddle in the corner of the bed, traumatised and fearful. He sank his shoulders.

          "I'm sorry, Hyuk." He apologised, softening the tone of his voice.

     Taemin inched towards the man slowly and carefully, the same way one does when approaching a terrified child. He put his hand out, searching for Hyukjae's. Upon skin contact, Hyukjae flinched, backing away. Taemin hung his head, sighing.

          "Okay," he gave in, "I'll...I'll take you to visit Donghae. I'll bring you there, okay? I'm sorry."

     Taemin crept towards Hyukjae, stopping barely half an arm's width apart from the man. He reached his hand out and began stroking the tufts of Hyukjae's hair, frowning. It was clear that Taemin would bear a grudge against that beast for as long as he could manage to, but as frustrated as he was, he knew that he was in no position to judge what Hyukjae wanted, no,  _needed_ for himself, even if that meant driving out of the state to visit the very man that landed Hyukjae in this plight. And besides, he had promised himself before that he would do anything in his power to help Hyukjae recover from the trauma. Perhaps this was one of those things. He didn't exactly understand it; heck, he never would've been able to even if he tried his hardest; but in order to help Hyukjae recover he'd have to first let him embrace the full gravity of the situation, and mourn.

          "I'll take you to see him, okay? I promise. I'm sorry."

 

* * *

**_Love_ **

     Early the next morning, Taemin took Hyukjae out for a spin; first to get some breakfast at a nearby coffeeshop, before shopping for essentials that they'd need on their journey out of state. The pair clambered into the car as soon as they had gotten everything they needed and soon took off on a long four hour drive to Mokpo. It was a relatively quiet ride; the silence occasionally broken by Taemin's attempts at pointing out various landmarks and renowned places they'd seen along the way, and Hyukjae asking if they were any close to reaching their destination every few kilometers. By the time the car had passed Mokpo's welcome sign, it was nearly an hour past noon. Hyukjae looked out the window, vaguely recognising the scenery. It had been a while since he last set foot in Mokpo, for reasons only obvious to him. The car passed by a huge, grey building that resembled a dome on the top of a large shoe box at the top of a tall flight of stairs, marked with the words "Mokpo District Court" in bold, silver channel letters. Hyukjae shuddered, the strike of the judge's gavel echoing in his head.

     Taemin continued to steer the car in the direction of the straight road before turning a corner past a sign that said "Jeollanam-do".

          "We're almost there," he told Hyukjae.

     Hyukjae nodded in response, his heart racing. It had been months since he last saw Donghae, but he had missed him. A lot. He couldn't believe he was finally seeing Donghae again.

     The car continued on a straight road for about ten more minutes before turning into a carpark near the bottom of a hill. Taemin backed the car into one of the two available lots carefully before turning off the engine. Hyukjae unbuckled his seatbelt eagerly, scrambling for the items he'd brought along with him,  _for Donghae_. He alighted from the car, fidgeting excitedly in his place as he waited for Taemin to join him. All of this, of course, made zero sense to Taemin, but he didn't question any of it, even if it killed him not being able to understand why Hyukjae was so excited to visit the very person that tormented him, both physically and emotionally, in the last few years of their relationship. And so began their climb up a long flight of stairs to the top of the hill where Donghae resided.

     Halfway through the climb, Taemin grabbed Hyukjae by the arm. They paused mid-climb, facing each other. Taemin forced a weak smile onto his face.

          "Hey," he called out. "Please just...just remember that I'm here for you, no matter what happens, okay?"

     Hyukjae nodded.

          "I love you." Taemin mumbled into the man's back.

     Hyukjae had already continued climbing up the staircase, his pace twice as quick as before. Sullen at the fact that his confession of love had, probably for the billionth time by now, hung in the air and dispersed like the autumn leaves of fall, Taemin followed him two steps at a time in a bid to keep up with the man. He kept reminding himself not to be hurt by the fact that Hyukjae never, not once, acknowledged his love for him, or that Hyukjae was still very much in love with Donghae, despite all that had transpired in the past few years. He even cussed at himself for being so persistent, even though it was clear Hyukjae would never reciprocate his feelings for him. Perhaps being around Hyukjae was enough, even if Hyukjae's heart belonged elsewhere.  _Who waits for love?_ A painful ache spreaded in Taemin's chest as he climbed.  _Me, that's who._

     They finally reached the top, both of them bending over, catching their breaths. Taemin's eyes followed Hyukjae, who had sprung forward, bringing the bouquet of baby's breath that he had gotten at the florist early that morning and hidden behind his back, to his chest.

          "Donghae!"

     Hyukjae knelt down, carefully placing the bouquet on the grass patch framing the tombstone.

          "I'm sorry it took me so long," he apologised, remorseful. "But I hope you haven't forgotten that I...I love you."

     He ran his fingers along the letters engraved into the tombstone, spelling out L-E-E D-O-N-G-H-A-E. Hyukjae bent forward, pressing his face against the cold marble stone.

          "I hope you'll forgive me. I hope...I hope you love me like I've always loved you."

     Taemin, who was standing directly behind Hyukjae, looked away. He couldn't bear to look at the man. It hurt too much knowing that despite all the torment he'd been put through, his love had remained the same, if not grown stronger. It made him wonder if gifting Hyukjae with the gun to use for self-defence all those months ago had been the right move on his part, or if without it, Hyukjae would've survived anyway. He knew for sure that Donghae would've.


End file.
